The waiters laugh when they see me. I'm the strange foreigner in the residential area who always comes in, orders a coffee, and sits in the corner near the outlet with her laptop for three hours.
I wonder what they think I'm doing. I sometimes consider leaving one of my business cards on the table so that they can look up my website and see that I'm not just playing animal farm for the majority of my mornings, but as none of them speak any English, I've refrained.
The waiter who generally brings me my coffee approached on Christmas with a well-rehearsed, "Where are you from?"
"The United States," I grinned as his forehead furrowed in confusion.
"States..."
"America."
"Oh!"
"I'm here three months."
He shook his head helplessly and we both smiled.
Language barriers are interesting things.
After leaving the café, I ambled back to the apartment and munched some carrots and tahini for lunch. I eat so many carrots that Seher has taken to calling me the "carrot monster". I approve of this nickname. It's almost as good as Cathy Kelleher's nickname of "eggplant thief" and Baris' nickname of "chocolate".
At least I know I will never be referred to as "bread".
I practiced yoga for an hour, focusing on twists and backbends and thinking about how I'd modify each pose for beginners. For me, one of the most challenging aspects of teaching yoga is finding the separation between my practice and the practice of my students. Everything about yoga is personal -- it is my body, my journey, my edge. But when I teach, I have to break that mindset and think entirely about your body, your journey, your edge and supply the appropriate modifications and variations to help you flow through the class as best suits where you are at that moment.
I've been having a difficult time keeping my practice mine. I've given it to the students I have lined up in Croatia this April/May.
Seher tramped into the kitchen after I'd removed my yoga paws and was relishing the post-yoga bliss of open hips, mental clarity and a lengthened spine. She came bearing gifts of chocolate, hazelnuts and cream that her carrot monster might bake a flourless, chocolate, hazelnut cake for Christmas.
It felt so good to bake again.
Umit, Seher, Ayse and Öykü gave me an exquisite Christmas dinner. Ayse and Seher prepared meatballs (without breadcrumbs), Turkish rice (which is uniquely wonderful), leek stew, salad and soup.
And then there was my chocolate cake.
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| These meatballs were divine -- here's a RECIPE to something that looks similar. |
Umm... nope.
The Italians have their creamy risotto.
The Japanese have their sushi rice.
The Indians have their spicy basmati.
The Spanish have their hearty paella.
The Turkish have their buttery, perfect pilav.
How to achieve the consummate perfection of all that is starch?
Turkish rice is first rinsed in cold water to remove the surface starch and dust. Butter is melted until sizzling in a pan and the rinsed rice is added just before the fragrant butter browns. The rice is stirred for a couple of minutes, until completely coated with flavorful fat and just a little golden. Stock is added and brought to a rollicking boil, then covered and reduced to a quiet simmer for ten to fifteen minutes. The pot is removed from the stove and allowed to sit for five to ten minutes.
The rice is devoured with many an "elinize saglik!
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| Christmas with my Turkish family. |
Ah... I've missed baking.
Seher asked if I'd sing some Christmas carols, so I sang until Öykü got cranky and then helped clean up the minimal Christmas mess.
Cleaning up after Christmas dinner has never been so easy...
I played with Ökyü, studied yoga sequencing and went to bed early with a full stomach and the satisfaction of knowing that I'd someday look back on this Christmas as a good one.
Yesterday was just glorious. Umit had arranged for me to meet with a group of his colleague's students, and they were so engaged and enthusiastic that spending the afternoon with them was a pure pleasure. Their English was also at an excellent level, so we were able to joke and laugh in a way that's unusual for people learning a new language.
"I think a sign that you really know a language is when you feel comfortable making jokes in that language," I told Alex, the tall Russian boy who'd grown up in Istanbul with his fashion designer/model mother and stepfather. "You know English really well," I said after I'd finished laughing at another of his jokes.
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| The kids took me to Ortaköy try my second kumpir. I refrained from dumping hot sauce all over it this time and was pleased to find that I could actually taste the kumpir. Which was a definite improvement. |
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| A sea full of jellies! |
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| After finishing (mostly) my massive potato, the kids booked a tour for the Bosphorus Bridge -- the 4th longest suspension bridge in the world and famous for connecting Europe to Asia. |
I taught them some English tongue twisters:
"How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"
I laughed because Turkish people have a tough time vith the "W".
They taught me a Turkish tongue twister:
"Dal kalkar kartal sarkar kartal sarkar dal kalkar."
They laughed because American people have a tough time with the "Rrrr".
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| Ancient fort in the hillside |
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| Tourists feed the seagulls chunks of Simit, so they eagerly, greedily follow the ship in search of flying pretzel. |
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| Playing the "who am I?" game. |
Their English was so good that I taught them the "question game" I learned while studying theatre in university. We created a story about trying to survive on a sinking ship using only interrogative sentences.
Great fun all around.
After the tour concluded, we disembarked and caught a bus back to Çapa, where I was invited to a student's house to have Turkish coffee with her mother.
She had a Christmas tree. I was so happy that I hugged it.
I drank my Turkish coffee (in a cup with Ataturk's portrait in gold on the side) and ate my Delight. The student helped me to turn my cup upside down and then her mother read my fortune. The kids had a fine time translating Turkish to English and I delighted in having my fortune predicted in the grounds.
- Someone will give me a ring soon (or I will have a new love affair)
- I will come into money
- The government documents I'm waiting for come soon and turn out well
- Someone in my family is pregnant (something you want to tell me, Chelsea?)
- I will receive two important phone calls. The first will hang up, but the second will go through
- I am angry at someone right now, but will find a way to forgive
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| We finished the day by learning a couple of yoga poses and kissing goodbye. |
Good lord, that was a 10 hour day. Wow.
I ate carrots and tahini. I taught Seher yoga (until Öykü decided we were done). I watched Öykü destroy a fig and discussed the new schedule with Umit.
I weakly wobbled to bed and fell asleep while reading about how to sequence for women in their third trimester.
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